There are not apples enough to cure this country’s sickness. And it is a sickness. A wound on all our soft bellies. Maybe if in the remembering of that terrible tremble of a child, in the rack and ruin of our own broken hearts as we scan the news of yet another mass shooting, perhaps one day we can finally vow to ourselves and to our children that what is more important than holding any weapons of war in your home is the promise of helping one another live another day. To look out for our neighbors (and their children) so that they might have the chance to clamor out of an apple orchard with
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